


For Those Of Us Who Are Desperate To Die

by Lulaypp



Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Character Death is in the Past, Comfort-ish ending, It is honestly merely a plot device, Knife Wound, Mentions of Death, Most of everyone else is mentioned, Sad, Suicidal thoughts (of sorts), Whumptober, emotional angst, minor blood, questionable medical knowledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27085774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp/pseuds/Lulaypp
Summary: It is not that Batman wants to die, but does he want to live?When Bruce spirals too deep into his own grief, would anyone be there to help him?
Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949758
Kudos: 16
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	For Those Of Us Who Are Desperate To Die

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober Day 19 - Mourning Loved One/Grief
> 
> Originally I had a different idea. But this came to me yesterday (it funnily sprouted out of a comedy idea I was brewing) and I kinda liked it more than the original story I had planned for this day, especially since I wasn't too happy with how I did the first one. Also, I have just finished writing it and I only got to edit it like four or five times to I am sorry if it lacks a bit. I too am not too satisfied with it.  
> It also was supposed to be mostly sad and comfort-ish and kinda shorter. But it turns out this way because.... Jason decided to talk with Bruce.
> 
> READ WARNINGS: Someone in this story is purposely putting themselves into unnecessary danger, half hoping that they would die. So I personally (and another character in this story) believe that that goes into the suicidal thoughts category. So if that triggers or disturbs you, don't read.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Bruce walked down the stairs to the Batcave. It was quiet, both the cave and the manor. 

It has been for a while. 

He walked to the changing room, eyes averting the long-abandoned locker, unopened for months. A paper hung from the handle, a hastily scribbled _'Stop opening my locker, Damian'_ was scrawled across it in red ink. He pulled out the Batman costume from his own, trying to ignore the silence penetrating through the space. 

It was not like _he_ is generally loud. On the contrary, _he_ can go through an entire day without making a single noise. 

But there is the absence of _sound_. 

_Keyboards tapping._

_Mugs clinking._

It doesn't help that Damian has gone to visit Dick for a week. It is the fifth day in which he is left alone. Well, not unless if you count Alfred. The -as Dick sometimes say- family grandfather has been a blessing during these times. His familiar presence, his comforting assistance has been a constant throughout the many changes in his ever-evolving life. 

Which is why Bruce had decided to tell Alfred to take the night off early. He is aware of the butler's age, Alfred has far more than deserve it. 

Pulling the cowl on, Batman swiftly moved to the Batmobile, ready to protect Gotham. 

\- 

_There_ _is_ _no more Robin!_

_I only wanted to help. I care about you._

_Even if he’s right, I don’t want another partner._

_Batman needs a Robin._

Batman hardly made it out of the alley and onto the roof. A hand was pressed weakly onto the bleeding wound while the other pulled him away from the edge. Blood was seeping through the thick gloves as it leaked from the gash in his side. The concussion ringing and pounding in his head aren't helping things as he struggled to prop himself up against an air vent before his free hand fumbled for the bandage in his belt. 

The knife gash in his side feels bad. Long and no doubt deep, stretching from the lower part of his ribcage to his hip. The blade could have been laced in anything, been anywhere. He should make his way back to the Cave. 

The thing is, he isn't sure he can head to the car in the first place. 

The Batmobile had been parked some alleys away and he doubts he can swing or walk there without collapsing, be it due to blood loss or the concussion. Not to mention he would be vulnerable to any kind of attack if he tries to make it there by foot. He isn't the only one who is acquainted with the shadows. 

He pressed the bandage down onto the wound, his slipping fingers struggling to keep it in place. 

He would normally call Alfred, who will make sure someone gets to him but seeing as he had made his father figure take the night off, he doesn't see help coming anytime soon. It also happens that today was the Commissioner's birthday so Barbara is also unavailable. Dick and Damian are both in Bludhaven and while they are neighbouring cities, it would still take a while to get from there to Gotham. And he honestly is not sure if he has a while. 

Tim. 

He used to be able to rely on Tim. Even if their relationship had turned a little rocky and uncertain in the end, trust frayed, secrets hidden, but they both know that they can rely on each other to help in case of an emergency. He sometimes wonders if he had betrayed that trust by not being there for Tim in time. 

Batman could feel his hand slipping as he tried to pull himself up, determined to get back to the Cave by any means. But his limbs had lost most of their strength, not one of them was able to hold him up no matter how hard he tried. His only relieve was the lack of rain. A downpour would have made this situation worse and so much more unbearable. His too many years of training and experience being the only thing stopping him from groaning out loud as his side yells at him. 

Unconsciousness pulled at the edges of his mind as he slumped back against the air vent, his breath steady against the pain. If he doesn’t get to the Batmobile, then the Cave soon, he probably would not make it through the night. He may be Batman, but he of all people knows that he is far from invulnerable. He would die here. On this rooftop. Not to be found until Alfred notices something in the morning and alert the others. The irony would be that he is killed merely by a street thug and his own stupidity. Too lost in his own head, memories and regrets. Emotions have always been a nuisance. 

At least if he dies, he can probably see Tim again. Maybe his parents too. Have Tim met them? They would have loved his son. They would have loved all his children. 

Footsteps caught his attention. Deliberately loud, the sound of heavy boots echoing across the rooftop. He recognised it. Purposely loud to alert him of their presence as it wavered with uncertainty and an underlying fear. Bruce can tell all this because he knows that his son can hide any noise he may make and has learned to pick out tells of emotions just by his steps. 

A muttered curse was followed by a quiet, “B?” 

In less than a blink, a hand moved his own from the wound and Bruce let it as he looked up to see Red Hood, the glaring helmet clashing with his voice. 

“This- You-” Jason took a breath as he looked away from the bleeding gash, meeting his eyes. “I’m going to have to take you back to the Cave and have Agent A look at you. You are going to tell me where in the world did you park your car while I try to temporarily wrap this.” 

“Two blocks away. Agent A is unavailable for the night,” he grounded out as his side flared. 

Jason remained silent as he quickly worked. When he was done, he stared at Batman, as if contemplating, before speaking up. “Gimme your arm. You are not as light as Red was or Robin is so I cannot carry you.” 

Bruce’s heart flinched at the casual mention of his son, his dead son, but he offered his arm and Jason swiftly helped Bruce to the Batmobile. 

\- 

The car ride was long as Jason pressed the gas harder than necessary. Bruce had tried to keep his eyes on the road or his son and his mind from fading. Jason had been quiet for the entire trip, minus the occasional swearing and muttering under his breath. 

It was still silent by the time Jason single-handedly patched him up, after claiming that Leslie is unavailable, _W_ _h_ _y is_ _everyone unavailable_ _today?_ , but should be coming tomorrow. 

It was only when the knife wound was treated as well as any other injuries, did Jason explode, fury evident in his eyes. “Do you have a death-wish?!” 

Out of the many things Bruce expected his son to say, this is definitely not one of them. 

“No, scratch that of course you do.” 

“I don-” 

He was ignored. “I know Tim had mentioned it before but this...” Jason walked away from the bed before coming back, arms crossed. “Look. Let me rephrase. Why are you doing this?” 

“Elabora-” 

“This!” Jason waved his arms. “This whole thing of yours. You are the one lecturing me about reckless behaviour and-” 

“The knife-” 

“The knife should not have gotten you in the first place.” 

“You don’t know that, Jason, unless if you were there.” 

“Yes. But I know _you_ , Bruce. And I know that you are better than this. For the past few _months_ , I did notice that you were-” Jason sucked in a breath as he pushed his hand through his hair before turning to Bruce. “Ever since Tim died,” Bruce’s heart wavered, “you had been careless, reckless, you’ve thrown yourself into situations that even _I_ know is a bad idea. Just why? Are you _that_ willing to die? Do you really _want_ to die?” 

Yes, a part of him said. But to Jason, he said nothing. 

“Answer me, Bruce!” Now he can see the slivers of fear slipping into his voice and eyes. “Did you think that by getting killed, you can, I dunno, redeem yourself? Make yourself feel better? You think Tim would have wanted that?” 

“You don’t bring-” 

“And you don’t get to die just because of your stupid guilt!” Jason breathed heavily as silence hung in the air, his watery eyes never leaving Bruce. “We have all failed him, Bruce. We all didn’t get to save him when he needed us most. I even tried to kill him. But putting us in more danger than necessary solves nothing.” 

“You don’t know my motives,” Bruce said evenly, keeping his voice level. 

“I don’t, but Tim did. And he had told me about what happened while I died. How your behaviour changed, your morals wavered ever so slightly. He knew how to read you, Bruce, and I trust him. You may not be killing yourself, but that does not mean that you are saving yourself either. And don’t say that you tried earlier. Sure Babs, Alfred and Damian are not around to help you today, but the comms is still on. You _made_ me keep my line open for you and yet you cannot even call for a simple back-up when you really needed it? And don’t say that I wouldn’t drop what I am doing just to make sure you won’t die because I will and you know it.” 

Bruce closed his eyes as he felt his suppressed emotions springing up, threatening to consume him. All his buried grief and regret slowly clawed out. “I know. I know all that.” He looked at Jason as he let his walls fall away. “I also know that I had let myself fall too deep into grief and it inadvertently results-” 

“You nearly died because you are too thick-headed to realise that your death would do more harm than good. The last time we thought you did, Dick was crushed, Damian was lost, and even if they manage to find something in each other to hold themselves together, they were still hit. Not just that, Tim nearly killed himself more than once, sacrificed his relationship with almost everyone, just to bring you back from your stupid time stream adventure and this is what you do? Throw your life away just for some-” 

“Jason,” Bruce cuts in. “I’m sorry-” 

“I don’t need-” 

“You deserve it, so I’m sorry.” He took in a breath, ignoring the twinge in his side, as he let himself open up to his son. “I always keep on thinking if Tim believed that I would save him in the end. Did he hope? Did he ever think that I won’t? What if I have gotten there earlier? Would that change anything?” 

“Tim isn’t me, Bruce.” 

Bruce looked to his son in surprise. “I’m not saying he is. Even before you came back, I... wondered the same thing about you.” 

“I don’t blame you and Tim wouldn’t either.” 

“I know-” 

“Look, Bruce. If you dare say one more thing that so much as alludes to you putting the blame onto yourself, I _will_ call for Alfred, night-off or not. I’ll be honest, I am too tired to deal with my own emotions much less someone else’s.” Bruce was about to speak when Jason continued, “Yes, I know I was the one who escalated this, but... we both are not in our best state of mind right now, and you are wounded so we’ll continue this tomorrow because we are _far_ from done and I willfind a way to help you pull that thick skull out of the mud. Right now, I just am too tired and I should be heading home or at least up to the manor if you don’t mind me staying for one night.” 

Bruce felt his heart lighten at that. The thought of Jason willingly staying at the manor, Jason’s determination to help him, and the sudden show of maturity. “Yes, I would very much mind if you stay at the manor.” His son barely managed to hide a wince. “I would prefer if you stay here with me instead.” 

Jason blinked. Before pointing to the ceiling. “Med bay?” 

“Yes.” 

Another blink and an uncertain step forward as Bruce shuffled to the side, the pain washed away by painkillers and elation. Luckily the bed was big. Jason hesitantly lowered himself, almost as if he is afraid that he is going to get scolded at any moment, and Bruce moved an arm around his son. 

His heart still ached for Tim. For his dead son that would have stealthily fished out a camera to capture this scene. He still grieves for the young boy that didn’t get to save. 

But he knows that Jason is right. Tim would not want anyone to grief for him too much. Bruce will mourn and remember his son as he deserves but he will try to move on. To live through life with the loss. 


End file.
